Skin Deep
by punkydiva17
Summary: *Story Completed* A psychopath has one of the crew. Seven days to find their teammate. Can they do it? Last few chapters are up
1. Introduction

**Introduction**

It was about two A.M. in a deserted area of Las Vegas, Nevada. The air was a deep cobalt, without a single star in the sky, the only illumination coming from the wailing sirens of the police patrol cars in the vicinity. The last of the two cars peeled into the parking lot of the Las Vegas Mortuary, where Captain Jim Brass was waiting with level three CSI Sara Sidle, who stood with her index fingers hooked through the loop of her belt, both tired and apathetic at the prospect of being up so early to do her job. That's not to say that she didn't love her job; she did. But she needed some sleep. She had been pushing herself so hard on her cases that she hadn't even thought about her home, let alone her health.

Two uniformed police officers approached. They were all dressed in bulletproof vests, Sara included, preparing for the best and worst case scenarios of what they are about to undertake. The officers were checking their guns, making sure their magazines were full, keeping their guns drawn at arms length.

Jim leaned over to Sara. "You carrying?" he asked.

"What?"

"Your gun. Do you have it on you?"

"Of course I do," she informed him.

"Well, then it might be a good idea to keep your gun handy for this one," he told her. "We're dealing with a sick man here."

Sara put a hand on her hip holster and nodded. "Yeah, right, I'll be sure to do that," she replied wearily.

Captain Brass turned to them and called out, "Now guys, we have a tip that inside this mortuary is "Skinner" Walter Wallace, ready to go without a fight. I don't know how reliable our source is, but watch your asses in there." The officers nodded and they all made their way to the door, Sara keeping close behind Brass.

The first officer, a young upstart named Salino, pounded on the door and called out, "Mr. Wallace, this is the Las Vegas Police Department. Open up and come out with your hands up." There was nothing but silence that greeted the men. "Mr. Wallace, this is your second and final warning. Come on out." He was still greeted with no response. "To hell with it."

The officer kicked the door open and they all swarmed in at once, Sara still behind Brass, her gun pointed low to the floor. Sara reluctantly poked her head into the dingy room before slowly making her entrance.

"This place has been abandoned for quite some time," Sara observed.

"How do you figure that?" Brass inquired.

"Look at this place. It looks more like a torture chamber than a mortuary."

Brass took a look around and had to concede with Sara's analysis. It seemed as though there were nothing but butchering products around and laying on a cold slab on the table was a skinned body, strapped down. Sara cupped a hand over her mouth and murmured, "Oh, my God..." They ventured further into the mortuary, where they approached the victim on the table. Sara checked the pulse and the woman jumped, causing Sara to cry out. "Oh, my God," she almost cried, "She's still alive, Brass!"

Captain Brass nodded. "We're going to need a medic in here..." He looked around the room. "He's in here somewhere." There was a slight pause as he turned to Sara. "This really isn't a safe place for you to be, Sara. You should go stand outside."

Sara motioned down to the gun in her hand with her head. "I'm okay, I have my..."

Brass suddenly turned to her, snarling, "Sara, you're a CSI, not a cop. Get outside. Now." Sara nodded and quickly rushed outside. She hears the commotion inside and she notices the inside of the building lighting up and darkening with the incessant gunfire.

Deciding to investigate around the building, Sara moved around the building to try and observe the surroundings and get a better look inside, but all she got was a pain in the back of her head and everything went black.

Half an hour later, more police cars had arrived, alongside an ambulance. Grissom curbs his midnight blue Chevy Tahoe and gets out of the vehicle, moving around to the passenger side to retrieve his field kit. The rest of the CSI crew had beaten him to the scene, Catherine Willows, Warrick Brown, Nick Stokes and Greg Sanders. They stood with Captain Brass, eyes to the floor, already knowing the news that one of them would have to tell Grissom of.

"What do we got here, Brass?" Grissom inquired. He hadn't been briefed, only told that an emergency situation had broken out at the mortuary.

"Two dead cops and a missing CSI," Captain Brass informed him.

Grissom was suddenly confused. "Can somebody please explain to me what happened here? Why do we have two dead cops and a missing CSI?"

"I got a call earlier from an unnamed source saying that Walter Wallace was inside, ready to go without a fight, so I came here with a few officers to check it out."

"Well, from the looks of things here," Grissom said, "he wasn't ready to go without a fight."

Ignoring Gil's response, Brass continued. "We get here, and the next thing I know, I have two officers down and Sara's MIA."

"Wait – our missing CSI – it's Sara?"

"Yeah, I'm afraid so, Gil," Jim replied. He could see the irritation welling up in Gil at that particular second and he wished he had gotten Catherine to give him the news. "I swear to you, Gil, he was in there somewhere. The next thing I know..."  
"Well, what was she doing out here on her own with a psychopath in the vicinity, Jim?" Grissom bellowed out at him. "Why didn't you bring more officers?"

"I was told that he would go without a fight," Jim maintained. "So it was going to be a quiet thing. I'm sorry, Gil. It was a mistake on my part."

Biting his lip and fighting the urge to punch Jim in the face, Grissom stalked off to a quiet area. Catherine shot a glance at everybody and took a deep breath before making her way over to Grissom, who had walked behind the mortuary.

"You okay?" she inquired. He was counting his pulse. Not a good sign.

"Just fine, Catherine," he replied politely. Almost too politely. "You guys need to start processing the scene," he began, "Tire tracks, blood, the whole nine yards. Just get it. We don't have a lot of time.

"Sara's in real danger."


	2. More Information on the Skinner

**More Information on The Skinner**

Outside of the mortuary, the CSI team was processing the scene. Catherine, Warrick, Nick and Greg were crouched low to the ground, looking for any indication of where the man had taken Sara.

"You find anything, Nick?" Greg Sanders inquired.

"Are you kidding?" Nick asked back, "it's like they disappeared without a trace!"

"I know what you mean," Warrick replied. "Man, this is unbelievable. I can't believe this is happening!" He was growing increasingly frustrated by the situation. "I'm not finding anything!"

"We have to keep looking. We have seven days to find Sara," Catherine replied.

"So what's up with this Skinner guy anyway?" Greg inquired, oblivious to the news.

"The Skinner is a guy from Cali," Warrick announced, "he takes his victims, kidnaps them and in that duration of seven days, skin and murder them. In that order." That caused Greg to cringe. "Brass got word as soon as he moved out here, but nobody had the evidence to nail him.

"Man, I don't know about you guys, but I hate it when I have to deal with a guy who knows what he's doing." Nick nodded; he'd been in that situation before when he had been locked in a glass casket and buried alive. It was a miracle his teammates had even found him.

Grissom approached. "You guys find anything out here?"

"Nothing related to the case," Warrick retorted.

"Keep looking."

"How's the inside looking?" Catherine asked.

"Two dead officers. They're on their way to Doc right now."

"Any other vics?" she replied.

"A young woman in there. Skinned." That prompted Warrick and Nick to grimace at the tought. "She's still alive, and on her way to the hospital, but things aren't looking too good for her right now. She's practically bled out. She could die anytime now." She could hear the frustration in Grissom's voice.

"Hopefully that doesn't happen," Nick offered optimistically, "she's probably our only link to this case."

During this time, Greg had wandered off to do a little investigating of his own. "Guys! Guys!" he called out excitedly, "I think I found something over here!"

Grissom and Catherine shot a look of optimism at each other and made their way to Greg with Warrick and Nick.

It was a small puddle of blood on the concrete. The entire team just stared down at it in silence. Blood was never a good sign.

After a long pause, Nick inquired. "Do you guys think it belongs to Sara?"

"There's only one way to find out," Grissom replied. "Greg, swab it and run it back to the lab."

Hours later, Catherine, Warrick, Nick, Greg and Grissom were all sitting around the table in the CSI breakroom, staring at all the evidence that they had – which wasn't all that much. Tired, and increasingly frustrated, they stared and threw guesses and ideas back and forth.

"I can't believe this," Warrick lamented, "No tire tracks, no fibres, no nothing! All we have is to go on that blood out back!"

"Speaking of which," Catherine replied, "anybody know anything about that?"

"Yeah. Ran through the lab. It's Sara's," Greg informed them. That caused another heavy silence in the room.

"So what does that tell us?" Nick inquired.

"It could tell us a number of things," Grissom replied. "It could tell us Sara got injured in a struggle or perhaps she was knocked out before she was abducted."

There was a beat and Nick asked for the time. Grissom looked down at his watch. "Four. That reminds me, I need to get to Doc's about those bodies." With that, Grissom disappeared, leaving the rest of the team with their evidence.

The morgue was a cold place that smelled of sterilizer and steel, yet it was always a morbidly comforting place for Doc Robbins to be. It was probably more comforting to Grissom, too, who found death more fascinating than human life...at least so it seemed to the others.

Doc stared up at the clock. "Running late?" he inquired.

Grissom opted to ignore the comment. "What do we have Doc?"

"First officer is Sam Mitchell of the LVPD. The shot was a close range shot, maybe anywhere from four to five feet away. It was a low, slanted shot. Maybe he was shot from an assailant in the crouch position. As you can see, the shot came from a low level to the ground, giving the shooter a slanted shot. Clear through, cracking several wounds before making a clean exit wound."

Doc covered the first officer and moved towards the second. "On the other hand, Rod Salino was shot from a further distance, maybe six to eight feet. High shot. Maybe a standing position."

"Standing behind the other officer, maybe?" Grissom inquired.

"Well, your shooter was definitely hiding somewhere because these men I doubt saw it coming."

Grissom didn't really have all that much to say to that. There was a long pause, both men embraced by the morgue's silence. "How's your night?"

"A little slow," Doc joked, sitting down at the computer. "I heard about what happened at that crime scene with Brass."

"Brass was here?" Grissom was slightly incredulous. He couldn't remember Brass ever coming to the morgue.

"Yeah. About an hour ago."

"Yeah, the LVPD sure has a major disaster on their hands here," he replied, unable to keep the bitterness from escaping into his voice.

"I heard Sara is missing," Doc replied.

"You heard correctly."

"Her mother know what happened?" Laura Sidle was in an asylum in California.

"No, but I should get that arranged," Grissom replied with a defeated exhale. "Did you manage to get any evidence of the attacker on the vics?"

"Just the bullet fragments," Doc replied, standing up to retrieve them for Gil. He handed the container of fragments to Grissom.

"Thanks, Doc. I have to get going. Short clock here. If you get any information, call me ASAP."

"Sure thing, Gil," Doc replied, and Grissom left the coroners office with bullets in hand.

Pulling back into the parking lot of the headquarters, Grissom was ready to rush back into the lab when he ran into Catherine, who was leaving the building.

He climbed out of the car and approached. "Leaving, Catherine?"

Catherine jumped, startled. "Yeah, I just got a call from the hospital. Lindsey got alcohol poisoning." She shook her head. Things had been incredibly difficult with her daughter lately, and Grissom sympathized for her. "But before I go, I'm glad to run into you. The skinned vic in the mortuary is comatose, but she may survive. They have her condition stabilized."

"Do we have an identity for her yet?" Grissom inquired. Catherine shook her head. "She's probably the only one that might have any clue where he went!"

"Well, I'm pretty sure the mortuary was his hangout before the cops shot it up," Catherine drawled dryly. There was a beat between the two of them. "I have to get going. I'll be in later today, but..."

"I understand," Grissom interrupted. "Go." He didn't bother to stay and watch Catherine leave; there was work to be done.


	3. Hopes For A Lead

**Hopes for A Lead**

Grissom was in his office hours later, talking with Laura Sidle. The relationship between mother and daughter was strained at best, but at the same time, he knew that he couldn't not call her mother about something like this. She had a right to know.

"Yes, I know, it's unbelievable, Mrs. Sidle, and I'm very sorry to have to be the one to break this news to you. We're doing everything we can right now, everybody's in the pool, so to speak. But we have little or no evidence to go on. Of course. I will call you with any new developments. Yes. Bye." He hung up the phone and took off his glasses, resting them on the desk. He rubbed his temples from the impending headache. His once a year migraine was about to hit him full-force.

Catherine and Warrick walked in, prompting him to look up. "You talk to Mrs. Sidle?" Catherine asked.

"Just got off the phone with her."

"Anything new since I left?" Catherine inquired.

"The bullets. Hopefully from that we can pull his address."

"That's just if he's stupid and used a registered handgun of his own to shoot them."

Greg rushed into the doorway, excited, nearly knocking Catherine down in the process. "We have the address of the gun owner!" Greg announced cheerfully. Excited for the new lead, and hopefully the case cracker, they all stood up and rushed down the hallway.

The Ballistics worker, a young man named Ryan, was seated behind the desk, working with the bullets. "What do you have for us?" Grissom inquired.

"Well, the bullets you gave me," he replied. "We were able to match it to a nine millimeter handgun registered to a Las Vegas resident."

"Why am I sensing a but though?" Grissom inquired.

"Nine millimeter handguns are incredibly common for a gun owner and police officers. What I did find though was that the bullets are a custom make. Check this out."

Grissom looked into the microscope. The bullets were initialed LC along the side. Grissom pulled back. "LC?"

"I managed to get a list of all nine millimeter owners with bullets like that and I came up with five in the area."

"May I see the list?" Grissom inquired.

"Yeah, it's in the printer." Grissom went and grabbed the list.

"Damn it." He looked over at the people in the lab, their eyes on him in suspense.

"No Wallace."


	4. Tension Mounts

**Tension Mounts**

That afternoon – with five days left, Catherine Willows and Nick Stokes went to the house of L.C. 3, Lance Cage. They knocked on the door of his home, and he answered before Nick could ring the doorbell, dressed in his pajamas, hair disheveled and a cup of coffee in his hands.

"Hi," he said, bewildered. "Can I help you guys?"

"I'm Nick Stokes and this is Catherine Willows from the Las Vegas Crime Lab. We're here to ask you a few questions regarding a very important case that we're working on. May we come in?"

"Yeah, sure," he replied, stepping to the side to let them enter. He led them into the living room. "Can I get you guys a coffee or something?"

"Fine, thanks," Nick replied, sitting down on his couch.

"What's up?" he asked, sitting across from them.

"Last night was the attempted arrest of Walter Wallace..."

"Yeah. Picked it up on the scanner. Sounded like one hell of an attempt."

"Well, as a result of the attempt, one of our colleagues, Sara Sidle, was taken," Nick replied.

"I'm sorry to hear that," Lance replied.

"We, um, ran a ballistics test using the two bullets pulled from the two slain officers and well...they're bullets registered to you and your gun."

"Oh." It dawned on him. "I think I see where you're going with this. That's my gun. My home was broken into a month and a half ago and some things were taken, including my gun. I did file a police report."

"What kind of gun did you have?"

"A regular nine millimeter that was issued to me when I joined the Reno P.D."

"May we see your badge?" Nick inquired. Lance grabbed it off of the coffee table and handed it to Nick. The two CSIs stared at it and handed it back to Lance, apparently satisfied by the viewing.

Nick exhaled, clearly getting more and more frustrated. "Sorry to have wasted your time."

"Don't worry about it. You're just doing your job," Lance replied and the two CSIs left. They walked out into the lawn.

"This case is going nowhere," Nick murmured.

Meanwhile, back at the lab, Warrick was growing more and more and more frustrated with each passing second. This seemed like an impossible puzzle to solve. No evidence, no ransom, nothing to even give them an inclination that Sara was still alive. He was sitting by himself in the break room, staring at the folders and photographs from the crime scene.

Grissom walked by, drinking a coffee. He stopped and walked into the room. "What are you doing?"

"I'm just looking at the pictures again. We have to be missing something," he insisted. "There has to be more evidence than what we have."

"Warrick, maybe you should go home and gets some sleep. Come back with a fresh eye."

Warrick shook his head. "No time for that." He looked up at Grissom, his green eyes intense. "Any word from Catherine and Nick?"

"No."

That seemed to set off Warrick Brown. "I can't believe this. First Nick, now Sara."

"The evidence has never failed us, Warrick," Grissom informed him. "Once we figure out the missing pieces of the puzzle, then we'll find Sara."

Catherine and Nick trudged in, thoroughly defeated. "What did you guys get?" Warrick asked.

"Well, LC is a cop for the Reno PD," Catherine replied. "His gun was stolen a month and a half ago." She handed Grissom a folder and he stared at her, surprised. "The police report he filed regarding the missing gun."

"Another dead lead." Warrick's tone was lifeless, but his eyes were flashing with anger.

"My thoughts exactly," Nick replied.

"So, what we have here is no prints, no weapons, no fibers, no tire tracks..." With each listing he grew increasingly more frustrated. "All we have is nothing but photos of nothing!"

Catherine could sense the impending lightning strike. "Warrick..."

"We don't even know what the hell we're looking for!" his sleep-reduced mind yelled out into the room. "We don't know where the hell to even start looking! For all we know she's..."

That was a thought that was too much for Grissom to take. "Warrick, that's enough..." His tone was loud, stern, out of character for a man normally as composed as Gil Grissom.

"That's easy for you to say, Grissom. After all, she's just another victim, huh?"

The room went loud with silence. The two men locked glares and Warrick stormed out into the hallway. Grissom had to catch his breath and he turned to Catherine. "Send him home. Tell him to get some sleep. He's no good to us like this." He knew that if anybody could get through to him, it would be Catherine. Catherine left and Grissom rubbed his temples.

"I'm, um, going to see if we can ID that vic in the morgue. See if we can contact her parents." Grissom nods and Catherine returned shortly after Nick left.

"You okay, Gil?" she inquired.

"Yeah, fine," he replied, sitting at the table. "I'm just...I'm not sure how to solve this," he confessed. "He has to be long gone with her right now."

"Do you want me to call the neighboring states and police stations? Tell them we have a CSI missing?"

"That would be a great idea, Catherine."

"We're going to find her, Gil," she added optimistically.

"I know," he replied. "The evidence always sees us through. It's just that we're missing something important in these photos." There was a beat. "At this point in time, we should have more to go on than this."

"No tire tracks, right?"

"Not a track of anything. We have nothing leading us nowhere."

"Then maybe we need to go back out there and check the wooded area behind the mortuary."

"Didn't you guys process it?"

"Maybe we're missing something," Catherine replied. "Maybe Sara was dragged through the woods."

Grissom shot a look at Catherine. "There would be more blood. We don't even know if Sara just wasn't killed there. Or if she was even knocked out."

"It's too little blood for a murder, Gil. You of all people know that. And this son of a bitch's MO is going to prevent Sara's death for the next seven days. So what I'm thinking was he knocked her out with the stolen gun."

"Think the robbery and Sara's abduction is connected?"

"I think so," Catherine replied.

He took a deep breath. "See if you're missing anything out there. And if you think you've found everything, inspected every last blade of grass...do it again."

Catherine nodded and left to go and resume her work on the case.

Meanwhile, in some unknown place, Sara Sidle woke up to a blinding pain in the back of her head. She didn't know how long she had been out for, but instinct told her she was not in a hospital. Or a hospital that was licensed by the state of Nevada anyway. She could feel the blood clotted in the back of her head and when she went to touch at it, she found her hands tied up to opposing posts.

She could see a man silhouetted in the darkness, staring over her wallet. Upon closer inspection, she realized she was dressed in nothing more than her pants and her black bra.

"Sara Sidle with the Las Vegas Crime Lab," he read out.

"Please, let me go," Sara replied, her voice becoming fearful. She was still bewildered and confused about the entire situation. "I just want to go home...please..."

"I can't do that," he replied, standing up and grabbing a camera from the table. "What you don't understand, Miss Sidle, is that I have plans for you." With that, he began to snap photos of his potential victim.


	5. Warrick's Fresh Eye

**Warrick's Fresh Eye**

When the clock struck six, Warrick Brown strutted into the office in a way only described as Warrick Brown. He was seemingly excited, and he ran into Catherine, who was going home for her shift of sleep. Nick and Greg had left a while before, both having worked themselves to an extent where they had fallen asleep on their copies of the case files.

"Hey. You're back," she replied.

"Yeah, I couldn't sleep," he replied. "Is Gris around?"

"He's trying to track a lead. It'd be better if nobody bothered him," Catherine replied. "Maybe I can help you out. What's up?"

"Something's just not adding up," Warrick told her. She smiled that heartwarming smile of hers and laughed.

"Well, we all know that."

"No. Just think about it," he told her. "She's nowhere around the mortuary, yet there is no evidence that she's been moved from the mortuary."

Catherine thought about it and realized what he was telling her was true. "Okay, I'm intrigued. Keep going."

"Think about it," Warrick continued excitedly. "There's no tire tracks that showed us a car left. There was no getaway car waiting in the wings for Sara. Sara was not a planned out victim, she was just there!"

"Keep going..."

"On top of that, the back bushes and wooded area shows no signs of any movement from dragging, no traces of blood, no anything. There aren't even tire tracks from a possible getaway car waiting in the wooded area out back."

"What are you getting at?"

"Something just isn't adding up here, Cath. This whole thing is without a trace. Think about it. If he carried Sara away, then there was no way that he could have gotten very far."

"I see where you're going with this," Catherine replied. "Dead weight is nearly impossible to lift, let alone drag and with Sara unconscious..." Her eyes widened and she turned to Warrick as though she had been struck with an epiphany. "There is no way he could have been long gone before we got there."

"Exactly. And even if it were possible, then there would have been the pattern of Sara's body – and possibly Wallace's shoe prints – in the grass out back."

Grissom was sitting behind his desk as Warrick and Catherine filled him in on their hypothesis. When they were finished, he leaned back in his chair.

"I know things aren't adding up here, Warrick," he replied. "Our job is to try and make them add up. So here is the question I'm going to pose to you two right now: Does anybody know how Wallace got into the building?"

"It was a break-in, I guess," Catherine replied. After all, Grissom had covered the inside.

"We're trying to figure out whether it happened, not guess, Cath," he replied. "That's not our job. Now, does anybody have the name of the owner of the mortuary?"

"Yeah," Catherine replied. "Stephen Winters. I tried calling his home to ask a few questions, but that's not going to happen; he's been out for the last several months. I guess business was booming so much that he decided to jump a plane to Greece."

"So it's been closed?"

"Yeah. His wife Rochelle has this thing about dead bodies and she didn't want to be running it while he was in Greece. I called her, though, and she's agreed to meet with us to answer some questions. Did you want to come along?"

"Yeah, sure. I'll meet you at the car."

Catherine nods and leaves. Grissom gets up to gather his things when...

"How's the investigation going?"

He turned to see Jim standing in the doorway. In the last day or so he had taken hit after hit from the media for the fiasco.

"I'll let you know when it starts," Grissom replied facetiously.

"No leads?" he asked, surprised.

"The whole case makes no sense," he confessed. "I always say that the evidence doesn't lie, but in this case it's not even speaking!" There was a beat. "Sorry about the other night, but...it's in procedures. CSIs aren't supposed to be working alone. We've already seen the repercussions of that with Holly and we had a really close call with Nick. You remember Holly, right?"

Brass knew this was a well-deserved shot at him, and he wasn't there to argue. "I'm sorry, Gil," he replied for what he felt like was the hundredth time. "I was told there was going to be no fight. The source said that it was two officers and brought up the probability of a body inside. I was going to stay behind with Sara while she processed in the event of a body."

"So what happened? How on Earth did we wind up with two dead officers and a CSI?"

"I don't even know," Brass confessed. "It was odd. We get in there, and not even five minutes after we get in there, Sam gets shot."

"And you couldn't see Wallace?"

"No. I told Sara to get out. Sara wasn't going to leave, but I didn't want a dead CSI on my hands alongside a police officer. Rod needed backup, so I asked her to stand out front for a few minutes while I tried to take him down and secure the area."

"Out front?" Grissom asked.

"Yeah."

"The blood we found at the scene – Sara's blood – it was in the back of the building," he told Brass.

"I swear to you, Gil," he fired back, insistent, "I watched her go out the front door."

Exasperated, Grissom shook his head. "She wandered off."


	6. The First Lead

**The First Lead**

Catherine and Grissom arrived at the mortuary to find Rochelle Winters standing out front, waiting for them. She was a stout, middle aged woman, smoking a cigarette, dressed in a "Las Vegas" T-shirt and jeans, her over-bleached hair piled high atop her head.

"Can I help you?" she inquired.

"I'm Gil Grissom..."

"Catherine Willows. I'm the one that called you."

"Yeah. Sure, I remember you."

"Mrs. Winters, I know that by now you are fully aware of the events here two nights ago. Can you tell us, if you know, how he got in here in the first place?"

"He broke in, obviously," she rasped. "Since Stephen left, this place has been locked up."

"The reason I'm asking you is because when we processed this crime scene, there was no signs of forced entry at all."

"Then you guys figure it out. You're the experts."

Catherine was tired of this hostile attitude. "Look, Mrs. Winters, I don't know what side of the bed you woke up on this morning, but I don't like the attitude you're possessing with my colleague and I right now. If you don't feel like cooperating, then we'll drag you down to the police station and force you to cooperate. Are we clear?" Grissom smirked. He had to admit it; he enjoyed it when Catherine got mad.

She took a puff on her cigarette and shot an evil eye at Catherine. "Look...Miss Willows, is it?" she asked sharply. Catherine nodded. "Look, I don't know about the whole thing. I get a phone call from a detective after the fact saying that somebody had broken in here, and had probably been staying here for a while. How he got in here, I don't know."

Grissom stared at the open window behind her. "Do you always leave the windows open?"

"No, but I do leave the one in the back unlocked. Just in case I lock myself out." She turned to Catherine. "I'm always losing the keys. It drives Stephen absolutely crazy."

"Catherine, are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

"I'm thinking we just figured out how Wallace gained access here."

"Do you really think he came through the window?" Rochelle asked, concerned.

"It's probable," Grissom told her. "Can you tell us anything that you may know about the break in?"

Rochelle shook her head. "No, I don't know anything more than what the officer has told me."

"Sorry to waste your time, Mrs. Winters. We'll be on our way," Grissom replied. With that, Grissom and Catherine left.

"Tell me you didn't just buy that hook, line and sinker," Catherine replied when they got back into the car.

"What?"

"She knows way more than she's letting on, Gil. She had no reason to be that hostile with us..."

"...Unless she was hiding something," Grissom finished. Catherine smiled, started the car and peeled out of the parking lot to the headquarters.

Meanwhile, Nick and Greg were talking in the lab room. "How's your week?" Greg inquired for the sake of some small conversation. The silence around the lab was killing him.

"Not too good," he confessed. "I've been really worried about Sara. I mean, you know how she is. God only knows what's happening to her..."

"I've been trying not to think about that," Greg told him, shaking his head.

"It's just been making me think about...you know...the box and the ants...I mean, who knows what's happening to Sara."

"Just try to be optimistic about this. We'll find her. We found you, didn't we?"

"Yeah, I guess you're right about that..." He trailed off as Catherine and Grissom walked in together.

"Greg, I need you to do some gruntwork," Grissom replied.

"That's what I live for," Greg replied. "What do you need?"

"See if you can track down Wallace's mother. Let's see if she lives in the Vegas area, and if that's the case, you and Warrick go and talk with her. Try to see what you can. See if she knows what her darling little boy has been hiding." Greg nodded and left to get to work.

"You okay, Nicky?"

"Yeah," he replied with a shake of the head. "It's just...the clock's ticking."

"I know."

"I just can't help but get this feeling..."

"Let's try and avoid that." He didn't want to discuss the pessimism weighing them all down.

"You're right," Nick said after a slight pause. "Is there anything else I can do?"

"I think all we can do right now is see if there's anything missing in these pictures."

"I'm on it."

Grissom was walking towards his office a little while later, frustrated. There was not much time left.

"Grissom! Grissom! Wait up!"

He turned around to see Greg run up to him with a piece of paper clutched tightly in his hand. "What is it, Greg?"

"I have here in my hot little hands the address of one Ella Wallace, who lives outside of the Carson City area." He handed Grissom the paper. "You want me and Warrick to go now?"

"Why are you still here? Go!" He handed Greg the paper and Greg took off down the hallway.

Ella Wallace lived in a dilapidated house just outside of Carson City. She was a small, old, frazzled woman who couldn't keep her eyes off of Greg, which made the poor guy uncomfortable. "What do you want?" she buzzed.

"Ella Wallace?" Warrick asked.

"Who wants to know?"

"Warrick Brown, and this is Greg Sanders. We're with the Las Vegas Crime Lab. We're here to talk to you about your son."

"My son?" she groaned. "What did that good for nothing little bastard do now?" she asked. Greg cocked an incredulous eyebrow at Warrick.

"May we come in?" Warrick asked.

She stepped aside and replied coldly, "Yeah. Whatever."

Warrick and Greg followed Ella through the house, staring at the photographs. They all sat down. "Your son is Walter Wallace, right?" Greg inquired.

"Last time I checked his birth certificate, I was," she replied. Greg had to admit, she was amusing.

"Miss Wallace, I'm not sure if you're aware of this, but the other night, there was a break-in at the Las Vegas Mortuary."

"It's been big news," Greg chimed in. "I know you must have heard about it somewhere."

"No, I haven't," Ella replied. "You see, I don't watch the news. Don't even have a TV. See?" She motioned forth with her hand and they noticed the absence of a television.

"Well, it was an arrest attempt on your son," Warrick replied. "Are you aware that he was wanted in connection of four skinning murders of young women in the Las Vegas area alone?"

"Oh, God," Ella groaned.

"As a result of the arrest attempt on your son several days ago, two police officers were shot and killed and one of our best CSIs, Sara Sidle, was taken. We don't have very long to find her, but we're hoping that maybe you could point us in the right direction of where your son is."

"You need me to help you," she rasped softly. Warrick nodded. She exhaled. "I feel for you boys, truly, from the bottom of my heart, I do. And if I could help you, I would. But I haven't seen my son in months. All that I can offer you is the last known address. I'm sorry..."

"Anyway that you can help us is completely appreciated by the Las Vegas Crime Lab," Greg replied.

"Miss Wallace, thank you for your help. Any lead that we can get right now is needed. We have about four days before Sara could be potentially skinned alive and we have no evidence to go on."

Ella grabbed a piece of paper from the coffee table. "My son was always a sick boy," she murmured. "Always used to catch him out in the woods, around with the roadkill and he was always a hunter..." She scrawled the address down and handed it to Warrick, exhaling. "This is the last address I knew he was at. I'm very sorry that I can't help you boys more. I wish you the best of luck in your search."

"Thank you," Warrick replied at her sincere tone. The two men stood up.

"This is great!" Greg exclaimed.

"Our first lead."


	7. At the Homestead

**At The Homestead**

Grissom sat in his office, drinking coffee that tasted like motor oil. There was a knock on his office door and he looked up to see an ecstatic Warrick Brown and Greg Sanders standing in the doorway. "I'm assuming the visit went well?" he inquired, slightly surprised.

"It went great," Greg replied, sitting down in a chair across from Grissom.

"Yeah. His mother didn't know too much, but we do have an address of where he could be," Warrick replied.

"You realize he may not be there, right?"

Warrick nodded. "But there has to be a clue there. Something that can link us to Sara!" Grissom realized that Warrick needed this for his sanity. He was never okay with cases involving people that he knew. Grissom took a deep breath.

"Call Brass. Give him the location. We'll go take a look." Warrick and Greg left the room, leaving Grissom to sip on his coffee and look at the case file.

"Kind of getting his hopes up, huh?"

He looked up to see Catherine leaned against the doorway, arms crossed over her chest. "Listening in, Catherine?" he inquired.

"I just heard the last part," she confessed. They fell silent. "Well, aren't you going to say anything."

"Catherine, sometimes you need to get somebody's hopes up for their sake. And you and I both know that Warrick is driving himself crazy."

"So, I assume we're going on a little adventure tonight?"

"You assumed correctly."

The following night – with two nights left – Brass managed to secure a warrant from Judge Schneider. Another judge, Judge Scagnetti, would not give out the warrant for lack of evidence.

Greg, Catherine, Grissom, Nick and Warrick all stood outside, wearing bulletproof vests, carrying their weapons. This man was a sick son of a bitch, and there was no way that any of them were going to die at his hands.

Brass approached them. "The guys and I are going to go inside and secure the location. We'll give you the signal to go in. For the love of God, you guys, keep your guns handy."

They nodded as three officers kicked the door open, swarming in six officers and Brass.

The entire house was empty. There was no furniture, no food, no anything in the house. It was just walls and floor.

Brass exited the house, completely frustrated with the lead. "House is empty," Brass snapped. "It's like nobody has been in there for at least a month or two."

"I can't believe this," Warrick exhaled, fighting the urge to hit somebody.

"I know what you mean," Brass replied. "Wallace made any attempt at contact?"

"None." Warrick's tone was bleak.

"That's what I don't get," Brass told them. "Why not call for money, for something. Nine out of ten times the kidnappers want a ransom. Why not in this case?"

"I know what you mean. He just can't be in it for the thrill of it," Warrick replied.

"Well, whatever the case, we have two days to find her." Grissom's voice cut in. "So we need to get back to the lab and figure this out."


	8. A Flurry of Information

**A Flurry of Information**

Grissom was back in his office, looking at the files again. Photos of everything; he was not going to leave a single stone unturned in his quest to find Sara. He took a sip of coffee, grimaced, but took another sip anyway. Where was Greg's Blue Hawaiian when he needed it?

Catherine and Greg walked into the room. "Penny for your thoughts, Gil?" Catherine replied under his intense scrutiny.

"Get Nick and Warrick." Greg nodded and went to go and get them. Catherine sat down in a chair.

"You got something, Gil?" she inquired, curious.

"I might."

A few minutes later, the team stood together, gathered around Grissom's desk. Grissom was standing behind his desk, ready to drop a bombshell that could take the case into the final stage.

"What do you have, Gris?" Warrick inquired.

"I've been thinking about what you've said," Grissom told him. "We've been looking for where he could have taken Sara; we should be looking at where he's hidden Sara."

"Wait," Nick cut in, "You think they never left the mortuary?"

"That can't be possible, Gil," Catherine replied. "We've searched that place inside and out on more than one occasion."

"But let's look at the points that Warrick made," he informed her. "I see it in the photos and the evidence never lies. There are no tire tracks that were recent enough to suggest a getaway vehicle. There is no weight marks in the ground behind the mortuary or shoe prints to suggest that she was dragged or carried through there." There was a pause. "Catherine, call Brass. Get a warrant for mortuary blueprints."Catherine nodded and ran out to make the call.

"What do you want us to do?" Nick inquired.

"Get ready. I think we may have just found Sara."

Catherine and Greg curbed the car and went up the driveway towards the door. Rochelle answered the door, agitated by their appearance yet again. She had a strong dislike for Catherine already. "What do you want? Didn't I answer all your questions?"

"Not good enough," she replied back coldly. "I have here a warrant that's limited to the mortuary's blueprints."

"I can't. It's in Stephen's office and it's locked," she replied.

"Then my best suggestion is you crawl through the back window and grab it," Catherine retorted.

"Give me a few minutes," she grumbled and disappeared. Greg shot a look at Catherine.

"Was she like this the last time you talked to her?" he asked incredulously.

"Yeah."

Rochelle reappeared with the blueprints in her hand. "Here. Now leave me alone." With that, she slammed the door. Catherine and Greg walked away to the car.

"She has something to do with this," she replied. "Greg, call Brass. See if we can get her hauled in and drag out whatever it is she's hiding."

Greg nodded and pulled out his cell phone.

Later, at the CSI building, the entire team stood around the blueprints. Captain Brass is on his way, but has yet to arrive. So they decided to start without him. There was no time to waste.

"That's funny," Warrick replied, staring at the blueprints. "The mortuary seemed a lot smaller when we were in there."

"Yeah, but look at this page," Grissom replied, pointing on it. "There's a basement or something under here. How on Earth could we have missed that?"

"I have no idea," Catherine offered. "I didn't even see an entranceway to get in there."

"Catherine's right," Nick conceded. "Whatever door I checked did not look like a basement and they were all processed by you yourself, Gris."

Captain Brass walked into the room. "You guys called?"

"How come you didn't tell us about the basement in the mortuary?" Grissom inquired.

"What basement?"

"The one in the mortuary, Jim?"

"I checked every room and secured it," Brass insisted, "and I did not see any basement."

"Come here and look at these blueprints, Jim," he beckoned Jim over, and Brass took a look. "See under here? Up here is the mortuary, down here is a basement area."

"I didn't know a thing about it."

"That doesn't matter now. Sara could be down there," Grissom replied. "Catherine, Nick, you go to interrogation to talk to Rochelle. Warrick, Greg, we're going back to that mortuary to find that basement, and Brass, get some uniforms. We'll meet them there."

They all separated. The clock was ticking.

Outside the mortuary, the guys all stood around, waiting for the officers who had yet to arrive. Warrick was surprised to admit it, but Grissom had driven like a madman all the way out to the mortuary.

Warrick pulled out his gun. "You carrying, Gris?" It was no secret that Grissom was notorious for not carrying a gun.

But not on this night. "Yeah," he replied, pulling his out. "We're going to go in there and check for the entrance to the basement. Be careful in here, you guys. Let's go in."

Warrick opened the door and they kept their guns drawn, pointed low, as they walked into the room. "I'll check the left wing," Greg replied.

"I'll check right," Grissom told them.

"I guess I'll take right here," Warrick answered and the men separated.

Grissom was in the embalming room, stomping on the floors, knocking on the walls, trying to find a hollow point, or something that would lead them to a basement. He is unable to find anything right away, which only began to heighten his frustration.

Meanwhile, Warrick was searching around, checking out the table where the skinned victim was laying and tripped. "What the -?" he yelled out before catching himself from falling. He looked at the scrunched up carpet and lifted it back to see a large box shape cut out in the floor.

"You all right, Warrick?" Grissom called out, running out to the main area.

Warrick smiled. "I found it! Anybody got a knife, something?"

"What's going on?" Greg called out, coming out.

"I just found the entrance, man," Warrick replied, "You got a knife or something?"

"Yeah, I got something like that in my field kit." Grissom stared at Greg, a little surprised. "You gotta be prepared, right?"

"That's great, Greg, but can you go get it? The time's kind of running out here," Grissom informed him. Greg nodded and bolted out of the doors to go and get his kit.

"I can't believe we found it," Warrick replied. "How the hell did we miss it?"

"I'll tell you how we missed it. The rug. Normally when we see the ground floor with no above ground doorway, we figure that's what we look for, and that this place is completely on ground level."

Greg ran back with his kit. He opened it up and handed Warrick the knife. "Here you go. We should be waiting until the police arrive."

"Where the hell are they anyway?" Warrick snapped. "No time for that, Greg. You stay up here and lead them down here when they get here. They should be here anytime now. Gris and I will check the basement. See if she's down there."

"Yeah, but I've been reading about this guy. He's violent. This guy is beyond negotiation tactics."

"Greg's right about that, but we have about..." He checked his watch. "Twenty minutes before the skinning should be started. We have to at least find her – now."

They opened the door and stared down into the abyss.

Meanwhile, in the interrogation room, Catherine and Nick were seated at a table with Detective Vega, who took over for Jim, who had rushed out to the mortuary with the uniforms. Rochelle is sitting across from them. She pulled a cigarette out of her purse, and was admonished by Detective Vega for smoking in a government building. She scowled and put it away.

"So here's what I don't understand, Rochelle – can I call you Rochelle?" Nick asked.

"Mrs. Winters."

"Rochelle," Nick replied, prompting a smirk from Catherine. "Here's what I don't get. We haven't been harassing you. We've only been asking for your cooperation considering that our colleague was abducted from your mortuary. But you've been hostile with us and I think it's high time you told us why?" The Southern charm that Nick was so famous for was gone. He wanted Sara found and now.

"I know why," Catherine replied. "You're hiding something, isn't it?"

"You're reaching," Rochelle replied back hotly.

"See, Rochelle, on another warrant, we also managed to prove that you know the Skinner himself. What we also noticed was that there seemed to be no trace of a Stephen Winters at the house. So, do you care to tell us exactly how well you know Walter?"

There was a long, tense pause in the interrogation room. She had long since waived the right for an attorney, not wanting to talk. "He's my husband."

The room was in shock. Nick stared at her incredulously and Catherine narrowed her eyes at her.

"That explains a lot," Nick offered, and a realization suddenly dawned on him. "You're the anonymous tipster that called in the night Sara Sidle went missing!"

"You can't prove that."

"Actually, we can," Nick replied. "Detective Vega?" Vega handed him a folder.

"What's that?"

"Your phone records. On the night Sara Sidle went missing, you called the police department at around 3:14 A.M., the time that Brass stated that he got a phone call from the tipster. I'll bet you didn't know that the police department tape records conversations to ensure public safety, right?"

"No, I didn't," she replied, shaking her head. "But what does that have to do with anything?" Her hostile demeanor was starting to fade.

"Well, we managed to listen to the call that came from your phone and...drum roll please..."

"It was the call from the anonymous tipster," Catherine chimed in. "See, here's how I think it went down. You really thought that he was going to turn himself in. You had learned of what he was doing and you wanted to help him. He's your husband, so you love him. So after talking him into turning himself in at your mortuary, you called Brass and informed him that he was going to go without a fight."

"But what you didn't know," Nick continued, "was that he had a victim in there and he was going to go and finish off before the police arrived."

"He had no intention of going without a fight, so when the officers arrived, he shot them," Catherine told her. "He was hiding behind whatever he could hide behind and firing back until he managed to escape out the back door."

"That's where we found Sara's blood," he replied. "We know that she was taken from the back of the mortuary." He leaned over the table and stared into Rochelle's eyes. "You can help us, Rochelle. You owe it to the victims."

"You owe it to Sara," Catherine snapped back.

Rochelle exhaled. "I was in the mortuary this one day," she began. "Several days before all this, and I saw the body of a girl on the table. She was skinned. I knew that she...that she was a victim. I went to check her out and she cried out for help."

Nick stared at her, disgusted. "And you didn't call for help? For God's sakes, a woman was bleeding out on your table!"

"I had to be sure that Walter was behind it," she offered, but everybody knew that was a weak excuse. "I went home and I talked to Walter, and that's when he finally came clean to me. He told me he was sick, that he needed help. So...I talked him into turning himself in. We had it all worked out. He was going to go to the scene of the crime and give up peacefully. He was going to go and apologize to the victim. He was going to explain!"

"Your husband lied," Nick replied.

"That's why we found no forced entry when we went to check the mortuary," Catherine murmured. "The owner would have the key."

"Here's what I don't get: why the story about going to Greece?"

"She wanted to save his ass," Catherine replied.

"You couldn't understand, Miss Willows..."

"You're right, I couldn't," Catherine iced back. "You can't imagine how heartbroken a victim's parents are. Your husband murdered four women and almost killed one and now you're still covering for him.

"You're just as stupid as you look." The two CSIs got up to leave and Detective Vega made the arrest on Rochelle Winters/Wallace.


	9. Lost and Found

**Lost and Found**

Grissom and Warrick stared down into the hole. "Greg, run and see if there's a ladder out back," Grissom replied. "Hurry."

Greg nodded and ran out the back.

"Maybe Greg's right," Warrick replied. "We should wait for the officers."

"I don't understand what the hell is taking them so long," Grissom raged, staring down at his watch. "We don't have this kind of time. Warrick, we've been running on a short clock since day one and now we're down to the wire."

Greg maneuvered his way in with a ten foot ladder. "Here you go. One ten foot ladder."

"Thanks, Greg," Grissom replied. "Now, get it down into that hole." The three men leaned the ladder up against it like a ramp and Grissom went down into the abyss first, followed by Warrick. They touched the floor feet first and shone their flashlight down the hall.

"Are you seeing what I'm seeing?" Warrick asked incredulous.

"It's like an apartment complex down here," Grissom replied, staring at two sides of nothing but doors. "Check out this side, I'll take this side. Shout if you find anything."

Warrick went to the other side and began opening door after door, shining the flashlight into the room. Grissom is on the opposite side, doing the same thing. Finally, after several minutes, he opens a door down the middle of the hallway and flashes the flashlight down the steps into the room. He heard a loud cry and he reaches for his gun. He holds onto it and points it over the balcony. He saw Sara strapped between two poles and Wallace had the knife in the crook of her arm. He could see the crimson dripping down her arm. "Freeze!" Grissom shouted. "Warrick, I found her!"

Wallace peeled back and Grissom and Warrick made their way down the steps as fast as they could, guns still drawn on Wallace.

Meanwhile, Brass came running in with the uniforms to find Greg standing there. "Greg, where are they?" Brass inquired.

"Down there. I just heard Grissom yell that they found her!" Greg couldn't hide the joy that came into his voice. They found her!

Brass turned to the backup. "Guys, get down there!"

In the meantime, Grissom made his way towards Sara. "You okay, Sara?" he inquired gently.

She stared at him blankly, her eyes glazed. Her tone was hazy, incredulous. "Is this real? I've gone crazy, haven't I?"

Grissom shook his head. "We're here. Greg's upstairs waiting for the police."

That's when Sara began to cry.


	10. The Rescue

**The Rescue**

Brass and the officers filed into the room at that given moment, guns drawn. "Freeze! LVPD! Hands in the air!" they shouted. Instead, Wallace pulled out a gun and pointed it into Sara's chest. They all froze. This was going to get ugly.

"I really don't think you're in a place to command, officers," Wallace replied. This was too much for Grissom to handle and he reached out and tried to wrestle the gun away from Wallace. The gun went off and they all froze as it ricocheted off a window frame and went into a gas pipe, quickly filling the room with gas.

"Terrific," Brass replied cynically. "Anybody got any bright ideas now?"

The gun was pointed at the ceiling. The new objective was to make sure that no guns went off otherwise the entire place would go up. He could hear Sara whimpering, trying to hide it.

"Everybody ready to die?" he yelled out. Warrick lunged forward and took Wallace down with a tackle, causing the gun to slide out of his hand and clatter to the floor.

"A little help here, officers?" Warrick yelled out as he was wrestling around on the ground with Wallace.

"Right. Guys," Brass nodded his head towards Warrick. Meanwhile, Grissom grabbed the scalpel out of Sara's arm and began to cut her bonds. Dizzy from the gas, the wound and a week without eating anything substantial, she collapsed, with Grissom catching her before she hit the ground.

"Sara...Sara?" his voice was panicked, shouting. "Warrick, help me get her upstairs!" Warrick draped one of Sara's arms over his shoulder and Grissom did the same, leading her up the steps as quickly as possible.

Meanwhile, upstairs, Greg was pacing a trench in the floor with his nervousness. He hadn't heard anything since they had found her. He heard the gunshot and assumed the worst, but he was still following Grissom's orders, despite the fact that he was on edge.

"Sanders, a little help!" Grissom called out. Greg rushed to the hole in the floor.

"What do you need?" he inquired.

"Help me get Sara above ground," he called out. "Is there an ambulance outside?"

"Been waiting."

"Get her up here and get the medic!" he called out. His adrenaline was rushing more than any rollercoaster could ever offer him. Greg grabbed Sara's hand. She was drifting in and out of consciousness, but the guys managed to get her up as she crumpled to the floor of the mortuary. Greg then ran out to get the medic as the rest of them made their way up the ladder.

Grissom leaned down beside Sara. She stared up at him, eyes wide. "Where's Cath and..."

"Tracking another lead. Shh," he soothed, brushing a strand of hair out of her face.

"You all right, Sara?" Warrick inquired, leaning down beside Grissom. "You're not going to die on us _now_, are you? Not after all that..."

Sara smirked as she drifted back into unconsciousness. The paramedics came in, ushering back the men and loaded Sara onto a gurney. They rushed her out towards the ambulance, the men following, staring at the ambulance.

"Go with her," Warrick replied.

Grissom nodded. "Thanks. Tell the others we found her." Grissom climbed into the ambulance and took Sara's hand, Warrick keeping his eyes on the two before the door closed and the ambulance drove off into the night.

With a sigh, Warrick stuffed his hands in his pockets and turned back to the mortuary as Greg came out with his field kit in hand. The two men climbed back into Greg's van and they drove back to the CSI building, bursting with excitement.


	11. The Ordeal is Over

**The Ordeal Is Over**

A few days later, Grissom and Sara were in the hospital. Sara had just been released, and she was happy to change into new clothing. Grissom had gone to her apartment and grabbed her a pair of jeans and a Las Vegas University sweatshirt. The entire CSI building was overjoyed that she was found and only required an IV of fluids and ten stitches in her arm. The doctors had been worried when she came in that seven days without anything substantial would do severe damage to her. The abrasions from the rope were healing nicely, although her wrists were red, sore and shaped like the yellow ropes one would find at a hardware store.

They were walking towards the exit of the hospital when Sara stopped in the middle of the hallway. "Everything okay?" he asked.

"Before I was taken, I got in there with Brass," she began, "and...there was a girl..."

"The vic who was skinned?"

"Yeah." Sara nodded. "What happened to her?"

"She survived, Sara. Miraculously, she survived. I saw her just before I came to get you. She'll be released next week. She had to undergo severe skin grafts. Her parents came from Arkansas to take her home."

"Can I go see her?"

He arched an eyebrow, incredulous. "And since when do you ever ask my permission for anything?" he teased. She smiled and walked down the hallway with Grissom to the victim's room. Her parents were there, seated on a chair, staring at their daughter, who was going to be horribly disfigured for life.

"Are you guys her parents?" she asked.

"Yeah," Mrs. Marsh replied, standing to her feet. "I'm Alicia Marsh. This is John, her father." They all shook hands and introduced themselves.

"Gil Grissom. We met earlier."

"Sara Sidle. I just went through the same ordeal as your daughter. What's her name?"

"Jessica." Sara sat down next to Jessica, who was dozing.

Mr. Marsh gentlys hook his daughter. "Jess...Jess, honey, wake up. There's somebody here to see you."

Her eyes slowly opened and she saw Sara. Their eyes instantly clicked and that's when Sara knew that she recognized Sara. Their eyes welled up with tears – Jessica for seeing her savior, and Sara for realization that that could have been her in the bed with the extensive grafts, fighting for her life.

"I'm not sure if you remember me, but I'm Sara Sidle," she said gently. "I was there the night you were found..."

"Thank you."

"Excuse me?"

"The first woman..." Jessica trailed off and started to cry. "I thought she was going to help me... but she saw me...I cried for help and...she...she ran..."

Sara shot a glance at Grissom. "What?"

"Wallace was living here under the assumed identity of Stephen Winters," Grissom informed her, and the parents. "He and his wife ran the mortuary. His wife found Jessica and she...well, she left her."

"That's terrible," Sara exclaimed. Her eyes closed and she took a deep breath. "Please tell me that she's in custody."

"She's in custody," he replied and she opened her eyes with a smile.

"So when do you get to go home?" Sara inquired.

"Next Friday."

"Must be looking forward to it," Sara replied. Jessica nodded.

"Hospital food sucks." Jessica shook her head. "I still have to come back... I have to get skin grafts on my arms."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Sara replied. "You have such a long road ahead."

"When do you get released?" Jessica inquired.

"I just got released," Sara answered. "They had to make sure I was good and ready. But I'm telling you, after a week of not eating...the hospital food didn't look all that appealing either."

"I know," Jessica murmured. "The nurse laughed at me because when I woke up I asked for a pizza." Sara laughed. A pizza actually didn't sound too bad at that particular moment.

"I should get going. My colleagues are waiting for me at work." She stood up. "Have yourself a nice trip back to Arkansas, Jessica."

"Thank you, Sara."

Together, Grissom and Sara left the hospital room. "Feel better?" Grissom asked her.

"I didn't think she would survive," Sara replied, wiping some tears from her eyes. "Funny how some people can survive the most horrible things and still have a great outlook on life."

"Yeah," he replied as they walked towards the door. "Everybody is going to be happy to see you. We were all going nuts for that week you were gone."

"Really?" she inquired. Grissom nodded. "Even you?" she teased.

"Yeah, Sara," he replied after a long beat. "Even me." They walked out the doors of the hospital, into the parking lot, into the daylight.


End file.
